Wait, am I recording? You are listening to Stuff About Things, an art history podcast. All right, let's bango. Hello and welcome to Stuff About Things, an art history podcast. My name is Lindsay. I'm a PhD student in art history, a native of Green Bay, Wisconsin, and I am not a football scientist, as I have proudly declared many times. I hope that you recognize both that reference and my voice from listening to part one of my coverage of the Green Bay Packers and Lambeau Field Stadium. If not, hello all the same. Hi, welcome. Happy to have you here, though you should go listen to part one, but hey, I'm not your mother. As I said, my name is Lindsay. I'm a native of Green Bay, Wisconsin, and the point of this two-episode streak is to pay homage to my hometown and its resilience during a really tough time. No, this is not a traditional art history subject. I know that. But it is really important to me. I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I have gotten some really good and kind feedback on part one, which I really appreciate. So thank you to everyone who sent me an email or a message on the podcast website. I really appreciate it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And without further ado, this is the part, part two to be exact, where I tell you stuff about some things. The history of the Green Bay Packers and their historic Lambeau Field Stadium. Part two, 1959 to today. But first, let us do a brief recap of part one. The Green Bay Packers football team was founded in 1919 by local sports star Curly Lambeau, who led the Packers to their first championship titles and somehow saved them repeatedly from bankruptcy. During most of these early decades, the Packers played at a pretty rough and tumble facility known as City Stadium. That all changed in the 1950s when the team and the city joined forces to build a new stadium, known very creatively as New City Stadium. This brand spanking new state-of-the-art stadium took the form of a bowl, with the construction company finding the ideal plot of farmland that had a natural slope. This natural form of the land allowed the stadium to be built efficiently and cost effectively, coming in at about 1.2 to 1.5 million dollars. The stadium was paid for up front by the city of Green Bay, with the Green Bay Packers agreeing to pay back 50%. The city did this, even though for about two decades, the Packers were pretty terrible. Long gone were the days of championships and titles and hometown celebrations welcoming the winning team back home. No, the team was pretty bad. And took a particular nosedive after Curly Lambeau's resignation as coach and team manager in 1950. Throw in a few more years of pretty bad football, and we arrive at the year 1959. It was just a few years after New City Stadium opened for business, and the Green Bay Packers weren't in need of a shakeup. They were in need of a revelation. That revelation came in the form of a man who, despite standing at only 5'8, was a giant among men. Mr. Vince Lombardi. Apart from Curly Lambeau, Vince Lombardi is, without a doubt, no questions asked, the second most important figure in the history of the Green Bay Packers. Lombardi arrived in Green Bay in 1959 after working for five seasons as the offensive coordinator for the New York Giants. This was a fitting job, as Lombardi was from New York. He was born in Brooklyn. Lombardi had played semi-professional football after college, though that was a very short-lived experience. He then transitioned into coaching, first at the high school level, then at the college level, before securing his position with the New York Giants. That marked his first foray into professional football coaching. After five seasons, it was time for a change. In January of 1959, Vince Lombardi became not only the head coach of the Green Bay Packers, he also became the team's general manager. He was the first person since Curly Lambeau to hold both positions simultaneously. And he wielded that power like God. Which was fitting, because a miraculous intervention was certainly needed. By the time Lombardi showed up on the scene, the Green Bay Packers hadn't had a winning season in 10 years. The season before Lombardi's arrival, the team only managed to win one game. Before leaving New York, Vince Lombardi famously declared that, quote, all I have to do is win two games, and Green Bay will have improved 100%. Um, excuse me, can we get some snow for that burn? Lombardi arrived in Green Bay ready to make big changes. And he did. That was made abundantly clear in his first few months as he slashed and burned his way through the Packers' roster in his endeavor to create the best football team that he could. That was his goal, and he would stop at nothing to achieve it. In addition to whipping his players into shape, Lombardi would mercilessly cut and trade players without remorse if he thought that that would make the team as a collective better. This was the time in which Packers fans really doubled down on their support for the team. While the building of New City Stadium did mark a covenant between the city and the team, it was the Lombardi era that made that bond holy, starting with that 1959 season. The team did manage to win the opening game of the 1959 season, which they played against Dubairs in front of over 30,000 fans at New City Stadium. And ultimately, the team finished the season with a 7-5 record. A winning season in the sense that they won more games than they lost, which hadn't happened in like forever. The next year in 1960, the Packers sold out every single home game two months before the season even started. That enthusiasm has only increased with each passing season as the Packers got better and better and better under Lombardi's coaching. That next 1960 season also started a new tradition for the Packers. I mean, if you could call it a tradition. It started a streak. Since 1960, every single home game that the Packers have played was done so in front of a sold-out crowd. Obviously, 2020, the year of Satan and his spawn, is a little bit different in that it's the first time in 59 seasons that the Packers are not playing in front of a sold-out crowd. The stadium is empty. There is not a single doubt in my mind, however, that once fans are allowed back into the stadium, there will be tens of thousands of very eager butts ready to sit on cold, uncomfortable bleacher seats once again. Vince Lombardi is a storied figure here in Green Bay. Sorry, New York State, we claim him now, he's ours, we got dibs. Vince Lombardi is so highly, highly revered in pro football, not only because he knew how to coach and manage a team, but because he also knew how to build a team in the more abstract sense. He demanded that his players respect one another and insisted that every single person in the locker room was equal, regardless of their skin color or their sexual orientation. Unfortunately, this was somewhat of a progressive stance in 1960s America, particularly the professional sports arena. And yet, in spite of that, Vince Lombardi emerged as a pioneer, becoming one of the first and most formidable proponents of civil rights in the world of football. While Lombardi was coach, the Packers would not stay in segregated hotels, they would not eat at segregated restaurants, and he would not stand for bigotry on or off the field. Racist and homophobic players need not apply. Thank you very much. Now I'm sure that Vince Lombardi was not an angel, he was not a saint, even though we treat him as such, but his actions during his tenure in Green Bay showed that he was more than just a great coach. He was a good person who stood on the right side of history. During the 1960s, the Packers experienced more than a progression of the team. New City Stadium was also expanding. Those of you who listened to part one will know that the designers of the dome built it with growth in mind. There was always the knowledge that the capacity and the facilities would eventually be expanded. That was the plan from day one, though I don't know that they expected to have to do that expansion so quickly after building the stadium. When its doors first opened in 1957, New City Stadium could hold just over 32,000 fans. But by 1965, the stadium could fit about 50,000 fans. It was also in the 1960s that the stadium gained its large green and gold structure that encompassed the stadium and became its signature look, if you will, for decades to come. The 1960s also saw New City Stadium gain something else: a new name. Although his breakup with the Packers in the late 1940s and then into the early months of 1950 was pretty ugly, Curly Lambeau had come back on the football scene in the early 1960s. The sense I get is that the rift between the Packers Corporation and Curly Lambeau was never fully mended, not by any means, but it was at least a little bit better. This was surely in part because 10 years had passed, but it also didn't hurt that the 1960s brought Curly Lambeau a series of recognitions that he could not have deserved more. This included his induction into the Wisconsin Athletic Hall of Fame, but also his inclusion as one of the first people ever inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1963. So, you know, kind of a big deal. Unfortunately, in June of 1965, Curly Lambeau suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 67. Curly Lambeau's untimely death sent a shockwave through the city of Green Bay and the state of Wisconsin as a whole. It certainly rocked the Green Bay Packers, who, despite all of their difficult history with Lambeau, still owed him the team's existence and its early mythology. There was only one fit way to honor those foundations. In August 1965, less than two months after Curly Lambeau's death, the Packers Corporation renamed New City Stadium. It would now and forever be known as Lambeau Field Stadium. As I think you can tell, the 1960s was a particularly fertile and important time in Packers' history. To this day, it is arguably one of the most important, if not probably the most important, streaks in the team's 100-year existence. Lombardi was whipping the team into shape, they had a new stadium, and most importantly of all, they had a new name on their stadium to defend and honor. And honor it they did. Under Lombardi's guidance, the Green Bay Packers once again became one of the best teams in the NFL. In fact, one of the most important players during this time was Paul Horning, who was named NFL NVP in 1961. So the Packers went from being terrible to having one of their players named as League MVP. That's nothing to sneeze at. Sadly, Paul Horning, also known as the Golden Boy, died just a few days ago on November 13th, 2020, at the age of 84 from dementia. It was a massive story in Green Bay. It made the local news, it made uh the papers. Papers, we only have one paper, I'm pretty sure, but it made the paper. Because even though Paul Horning hadn't played the game in decades, he was a famous Packer player. A childhood hero. A legend. His memory as one of the best Packer players ever was certainly cinched during the 1966 season, which was undoubtedly the most important season that the Green Bay Packers had ever had. Before we get to the events of that season, we need to tackle why this season was so different. This will be a good and necessary point to talk about the organization of the NFL. The National Football League to this day is comprised of two conferences, the National Football Conference, the NFC, and the American Football Conference, or the AFC. Now these names might seem ridiculous, and they are, because American and National are basically synonyms, but it makes sense if you know the history. As stated in part one, the National Football League, the NFL, has been around in some shape or form by a slightly different name since 1920. And for decades it enjoyed a virtual monopoly on the world of professional football. That monopoly was threatened in 1960 when the American Football League, the AFL, started its own thing. The NFL and the AFL at this point in the 1960s were completely different organizations with their own teams, none of which ever played one another. That changed when the AFL and the NFL started to, uh, maybe not get along, but at least play nice, which eventually led in the 1970s to the NFL acquiring and merging with the AFL. For sportsy competition reasons, the NFL decided to preserve the idea of two competing leagues by dividing the number of teams into these two conferences, the AFC and the NFC. During the regular season, teams play within their conference. So for example, the Packers are part of the NFC, the National Football Conference, so they play other NFC teams. As I'm speaking right now, they are playing the Jacksonville Jaguars, and they're not looking so hot. I'm a little I'm a little concerned. But the point stands. The Green Bay Packers and the Jacksonville Jaguars are both part of the same conference, and therefore they only play other NFC teams. Each conference is then broken down further into four divisions named after the Cardinal directions, so North, South, East, and West. Those help further determine which of the conference's teams progress to the playoffs. It's not just which teams are best, it's which teams are best within those four divisions, plus two other well-performing teams known as wild cards. It's not that important for the purposes of the podcast, but there you go. The six, I think it's six, the six or so winning teams of the conference then progress to the playoffs or the knockout round. So the winner of a playoff game progresses to the next game, while the loser packs it up for the rest of the season. You done. You lose. Goodbye. The final playoff game is called the championship. It determines which team is best in the conference. This championship game is a big deal because you're better than all the other teams that you play year in and year out. You get brag and rights, there's usually some like you know, sexy team rivalries and stuff like that. They make hats. It's a big deal. Before the 1966 season, that's where things ended. The National Football League did its thing, the American Football League did its own thing, you know, over there, and there was no cross-pollination between the two. That changed during the 1966 season, during which the American Football League and the NFL started to merge together. This was a multi-year process, but it all started in 1966. In that season, it was determined that the winner of each league would play one final game to determine which football team was like the best best. That event was then known as the AFL NFL World Championship Game. It now has a far less wordy title, the Super Bowl. That's right, folks. The 1966 season, which technically uh took place partly in January of 1967, the Packers, the team that sniffed the stanky boot for years and years and years, they not only played at the Super Bowl, they freaking won the Super Bowl. During that first Super Bowl, the Green Bay Packers pummeled the Kansas City Chiefs, winning 35 to 10. This win was particularly significant given the competition that existed between the NFL and the AFL. This was the first year that they were joining forces, and each team felt the pressure to win for their own side. And the Packers brought it home, not just for the NFL, but for the entire city of Green Bay. I tried, not that hard, but I did try to find some information about the celebrations that must have ensued after the team got home from this historic win, but I didn't find nothing. I am sure, however, that it was a freaking rager. We're good at those. The creation of the Super Bowl resulted in another icon of football history, one that is perhaps even more iconic than Lambeau Field Stadium, the Lombardi Trophy. The Lombardi Trophy is the be-all end-all trophy for American football, though it isn't like the Stanley Cup. There's not just one. A new trophy gets made every year. Appropriately, the trophy is named after you guessed it, Vince Lombardi, the coach of the first team to ever win the trophy. Now it wasn't renamed this until 1970, I think, but the form of the Lombardi trophy has remained remarkably consistent over the years, notwithstanding some, you know, teeny tiny changes. The trophy takes the form of a football, positioned as if on a T for kickoff. But instead of a T, which just like isn't very impressive, the football is on this really cool, tall, triangular-ish base. But here's the best part. Each Lombardi trophy is made of sterling silver. 7 pounds worth, in fact. Ooh, luxury. This design was the work of Oscar Readner, none other than the vice president of Tiffany and Company. Yes, the most famous jewelry designer in America, possibly the world. Readner sketched the form of what would become the Lombardy Trophy onto a cocktail napkin when he was. Having lunch with NFL Commissioner Pete Rossell in the months you know leading up to the first Super Bowl. To this day, the Lombardi Trophy is still produced by Tiffany and Company. For that reason, you might sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, see the trophy referred to as the Tiffany Trophy. But we all know, we all know, it's the Lombardi Trophy. Those who want to can see the original 1966 season Lombardi Trophy on display in the Packers Hall of Fame inside Lambeau Field. Which side note, I visited in I don't know, February before the world went to trash. And straight up, I was blown away by how cool the Packers Hall of Fame is. It's really well done, it's really fun. They have a bunch of exhibits where they recreate like Lombardi's desk and the phone on it, and there's you know like cool digital stuff and jerseys. It's very, very cool, extremely well done, and I highly recommend that if you are in Green Bay, that you not only go visit Lambeau Field, duh, also go visit the Packers Hall of Fame. It's a really cool place to spend a couple of hours. And either before or after, you can get a drink at one of the pubs inside the stadium. But we'll get to that. Do you know what else you can see at the Packers Hall of Fame? Oh yeah. The 1967 Lombardi Trophy. That's right, my friends. This Green Bay Packers dream team, headed by Vince Lombardi, won not just Super Bowl Uno, but Super Bowl DOS, earning them two iconic trophies. Speaking of football and Packers icons, uh it won't be an art history podcast if I didn't talk about the design of the Packers' infamous G logo. It's on the helmets, it's on the stadium, it's on bumper stickers. And in the year of 2020, it's on masks. The very famous G logo predates the Packers' Super Bowl success, with the team's jerseys first featuring the logo during the 1961 preseason. Interestingly, well, I don't know if it's interesting, but it's certainly to me a little ironic, which is that the Packers first wore these newly designed jerseys while playing an intra squad scrimmage game at City Stadium, the old Packers Stadium by East High School. And here I have to give a shout out to Cliff Crystal, the Packers historian, who I did not mention by name in part one. Shame on me, shame, shame, shame, Cliff Crystal, I'm sorry. Just a few months ago in August of 2020, Mr. Crystal wrote an in-depth exploration into the G logo's origins, and I learned all sorts of stuff that I didn't know, which I will share with you now. According to Mr. Crystal's article, and confirmed in a few other books that I have on hand, the famous G logo was the work of the Packers equipment manager, Gerald Dad Bracer. People just called him Dad, which I think is so cute. Bracer worked for the team for over 20 years, between 1956 and 1977. In 1961, Vince Lombardi himself asked Bracer to come up with a new logo to put on the Packers' helmets, which were as of then logoless. Bracer got to sketching. It was in his room at the Union Hotel in De Pere, which is still one of my parents' favorite restaurants, they do a mean cham tort. But it was in his room at the Union Hotel when Bracer came up with this ovular G, which he stated was intended to gently mimic the shape of a football. Very appropriate. Contrary to what I thought for 30 years, however, the G is not intended to stand for Green Bay. Here I was just living my best life, thinking that the G logo that is famous in my hometown stood for Green Bay. Like it just seemed like a logical thing to me, but no. But yes. This is Lindsay coming to you a month in the future from when I last recorded uh this podcast. I'm coming to do an edit. Because I just found out, I just found out that the G does stand for Green Bay. My aunt just sent me the transcript of a QA, or like a blog post QA that Cliff Crystal did, in which he does unequivocally state that the G does stand for Green Bay. But that Tiki Barber, a former running back, just happened to mention in an interview once in like 2010-ish that the G stood for greatness and it caught on. It infiltrated the mythology of, you know, Dad Bracer designing this at the Union Hotel. For the record, for the record, I don't want to make myself out as a bad researcher here. My source for the fact that the G means greatness was an article from the Milwaukee journal Sentinel, which I thought I could trust, just like I thought I could trust Tiki Barber, but no. I'm going to keep the next part in just because it's the original, whatever, uh, it's fine, it's a good story. So take this next bit with a grain of salt. Maybe a little pretzel salt. Okay, future me is done talking, back to past me. Hate it past me. Instead, the G stands for greatness, and it's been on the Green Bay Packers helmets ever since. Turning from one legendary Packers symbol to another, let's talk a little bit more about Lambo Field Stadium, which in that 1967 season, in which the the Packers won the second Super Bowl under Vince Lombardi, earned itself yet another name, the Frozen Tundra. One of the reasons that Lambo Field is such an iconic stadium is because throughout the years, the city and the team have refused and will continue to refuse to do one thing. Under no circumstances will Lambeau Field ever be covered by a dome. Lambeau Field is completely open to the elements. That includes rain, that includes snow, and that includes cold. And I don't know if you know this, but Wisconsin gets very, very cold in the winter. At times it can get downright frigid. Just like my heart. The nickname of Frozen Tundra was coined after a particularly cold game during the 1967 season. And when I say cold, I mean cold. It was a game so cold and so legendary that it earned itself its own name, the Ice Bowl. On December 31st, 1967, Happy New Year, the Green Bay Packers were set to play the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC Championship game. This game wasn't just contentious because the winning team would go to the Super Bowl, but because it was essentially a replay of the year before, in which the Packers beat out the Cowboys in the closing minutes of the game to go to the first Super Bowl. The Cowboys wanted their revenge. Here's the thing. At the time of kickoff, the temperature was minus 13 degrees. Excuse me, what? Yeah, negative 13 degrees, which for my Celsius people out there is minus 25 degrees Celsius. To make matters worse, the wind chill was negative 48 degrees. It was cold. Now the Packers aren't masochists, okay? The stadium did have a heating system that ran underneath the natural turf to prevent it from freezing, or at least, you know, like freezing solid. But negative 13 degrees is a bit more than that system could handle. When the custodians removed the covering over the field, the temperature difference between the heated ground and the air was so drastic that it caused the field to flash freeze. So whatever moisture had collected just turned to sheer ice. As I'm sure you can imagine, that was a very ugly game. It pushed players to the absolute maximum. And there are stories about how the refs' whistles would stick to their lips. Thankfully, the Packers came out on top, winning very narrowly in the final few seconds of the game, and ultimately going on to play in and win Super Bowl II. Lambofield's nickname of the frozen tundra has stuck ever since. In fact, I remember as a child, and I did confirm this with both of my parents, because it seemed like the kind of thing a child would make up, and like maybe I made it up in my head, but I didn't. I remember that as a child, at the end of each season, Lambeau Field would sell pieces of its turf. It literally looked like slices of cake. You could buy yourself your very own piece of frozen tundra. To do what with? I don't know, but it was an option. The 1967 season and ultimate Super Bowl win marked the end of an era for the Packers. It also marked the height of glory that the team wouldn't reach again for nearly 30 years. Following the team's second Super Bowl win, Vince Lombardi announced that he would no longer coach the team, though he did stay on as general manager for a couple of seasons before accepting the head coaching position at the Washington Redskins in 1969. The Washington Redskins are now, of course, simply known as the Washington football team. They're still working on, you know, a less racist rebrand. Back on the East Coast, Lombardi endeavored to do with the then Washington Redskins what he had done with the Packers to effectively turn around a failing team. And for the most part, he succeeded. Unfortunately, Lombardi only coached in Ashburn for one season. The legendary coach's health had declined dramatically in the summer of 1970 when he received a diagnosis of terminal colon cancer following several years of untreated digestive issues. Vince Lombardi died on September 3rd, 1970, at the age of just 57. On his deathbed, Lombardi told the attending priest that he was not afraid to die, but that he only wished that he had accomplished more in the time that was given to him. When I first read that quote, I just thought, this dude's crazy. But then I thought, well, look at what he did accomplish in the short time that he was a head coach. He made one of the best teams in football history. What else could Vince Lombardi have accomplished if he had just been given more time? Obviously we'll never know. But one thing is undeniably clear. What Vince Lombardi managed to achieve in Green Bay, Wisconsin was not only legendary, it will never be forgotten. After losing Lombardi as head coach, and of course, losing him to cancer just a few years later, the Packers followed their old footsteps. The general pattern goes that when they lose a particularly critical head coach, the team takes a nosedive. And that is certainly what happened in the 1970s and 1980s. William Pavletic, the author of the awesome book Green Bay Packers, Trials, Triumphs, and Tradition, states that during this pretty dismal era, the Packers were attempting to chase the shadows of the greatness that had once been, and they were failing. In fact, Pavletic says the team had fallen into, and I quote, the abyss of mediocrity. And if that isn't the best insult I've heard in like six months, I don't know what is. Once again, we need some snow in Isle 12 to manage that burn. While swimming in this particular abyss of mediocrity, all of the things that historically held the Packers back continued to do so. Number one, players didn't want to move to small town Green Bay. Number two, they didn't want to play on a field called the Frozen Tundra. And number three, they did not see the value in being part of a team with no big media market. If you like the lights and the glamour and the luxury of professional football, Green Bay probably not going to be very high on your list. Hello and welcome aboard the Packers Tour Train. Please keep your hands, feet, and heads safely inside of your car and be prepared for our detour that will take us around the abyss of mediocrity straight to Tidal Town, baby. The greatness that the team chased throughout the 1970s and 1980s would take a turn for the better in the early 1990s, when I was born. No, I'm just kidding. When the Packers received a new head coach by the name of Mike Holmgren, and drafted an upstart quarterback who would later earn the nickname of Gunslinger, Mr. Brett Favre. This coach and quarterback match made in heaven would become a dream team over the years as new players were added to the roster, including Packers legend Reggie White, in addition to players like Desmond Howard, Antonio Freeman, Leroy Butler, and one of my favorites, Gilbert Brown. It was this era of Packers' history that saw the inception of the classic Packers tradition of the Lambo Leap, which is when a scoring Packer player launches himself into the end zone crowd. Like they literally jump into the stands and then they get patted and grabbed all over. While quote unquote invented by Leroy Butler in 1993, the Lambo Leap would be popularized by Robert Brooks. And to this day, it's one of the go-to celebration methods amongst Packer players. I can't even imagine having to jump that high. If I had to do the Lambo Leap, I would just run straight through that wall like the freaking Kool-Aid man. On January 26th, 1997, this dream team would go on to win Super Bowl 31, during which the Packers enjoyed the balmy New Orleans weather as they spanked the New England Patriots 35 to 21. I was six years old when this game was played, and I distinctly remember watching the TV and being absolutely terrified the entire time, because I had no idea what was happening, and I thought something bad would happen if the Packers didn't win. That anecdote perfectly encapsulates the kind of paranoid child I was, and let's be honest, the paranoid adults that I would become. Hello. For those of you who remember the celebration that the Packers had on the field that night in New Orleans after they won, that didn't have sh on the homecoming they received when they got back to Green Bay a couple of days later. I remember that my school closed down at lunchtime because so many parents, and let's be real, probably teachers, were taking their kids out of school to go to the Packers parade that would welcome them back into town. It was really cold, the team was late, but it was a really good day. You could feel how proud the community was of the team, and in turn, you could tell how excited the team was to share this victory with Green Bay. That's how it's always been, and that's how it always will be. The 1996 season would be the final peak that the Packers experienced before Y2K, if you will. It would take them another 14 seasons to arrive at that Super Bowl stage again. In the meantime, Lambeau Field needed an upgrade. Notwithstanding some upgrades and expansions that took place in the decades after New City Stadium's completion in 1957, by the late 1990s, Lambeau Field looked a bit shabby, and what once had been state-of-the-art had now fallen way behind. As the Packers website states, as a publicly owned team, the Packers depend on revenue in order to support themselves. There was no billionaire backer helping them to make ends meet. And if your stadium isn't up to snuff, then you are losing out on valuable opportunities to make money, be that from buying special seating, visiting a merch shop, buying things from concession stands, etc., etc. In 1999, the organization set out to develop a plan for a large-scale renovation of the stadium. And when I say large scale, I am talking large scale. The renovation project would cost $295 million. And there ain't no way that the Packers would be able to spend that much money. As with the construction of New City Stadium in the 1950s, the team looked to the city of Green Bay for help. And the city of Green Bay rose to the occasion. While the Packers agreed to put forth whatever profits they had recently made from a sale of stocks, that only amounted, well, not only, but in the scheme of things, only amounted to $24 million. The majority of the rest of the, you know, $250 million would be paid by the city of Green Bay through a hike in sales tax. So anytime you shopped in Green Bay, instead of paying Wisconsin's customary 5.1% sales tax, you paid 5.6%. That extra half percent would go directly towards the costs of renovating the stadium. The people of Green Bay, however, had to agree to this tax hike. And in September of 2000, it was put to a vote. That vote passed at a margin of 53 to 47, with the majority of Green Bay voters wanting to see Lambeau Field returned to glory. And for the next 15 years, anyone who was doing any shopping in Green Bay was putting just a little bit of money towards the stadium. That tax only just expired in 2015. That's a long time. This massive renovation project lasted from about 2000 to 2003. And it was extensive. And Lambeau Field, as we knew it, was transformed. But it's not as if the stadium was bulldozed to the ground or anything like that. No, you would not do that to Lambeau Field. There was far too much history embedded in the structure, and to put it very simply, the guts were still good. This remarkably ambitious and expensive task was undertaken by Turner Construction, with the project focusing primarily on updating the facilities as well as expanding seating capacity, ultimately increasing that capacity by about 13,000 seats. If I understood this correctly from my recent tour of the stadium in early 2020, the new exterior was essentially built around the former structure, subsuming that classic 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s stadium in a new shell. This new external structure not only added things to the stadium, like additional bathrooms and doubling the concession stands, which, I mean, you had me at more bathrooms, but I will take more concession stands as well. But it also made the stadium far easier to navigate on foot. I mean, there are tens of thousands of people who are walking through the stadium on game day, and you need to be able to navigate those people effectively. The renovations also included the building of the main atrium, which would later, as we'll talk about, undergo its own series of renovations. The resulting stadium, which was completed in 2003, was a structure that at once paid homage to the old and now core structure that had long served as Green Bay's greatest monument, while ushering that monument into the 21st century. You could still get the impression of that old Lambeau field, but it was much glitsier, much fancier, and genuinely quite beautiful. Whereas the old Lambeau field structure was more iconic than uh, say attractive. As is customary of The Packers. When the stadium received this massive facelift, the team followed suit. While Brett Favre famously retired from the Packers in 2008, only to slink back to the New York Jets and the Minnesota Vikings. When I first posted this episode, I said some pretty harsh words about Brett Favre here, and then my mom yelled at me. So I do want to say, we do love Brett Favre in Green Bay now, but for a while things were looking a little hairy. His departure made room for the soaring talent that was and continues to be Aaron Rodgers, who, like the Lambeau Field Stadium he inherited, would lead the team to its comeback, and ultimately its fourth Super Bowl win in 2010. Technically, I think it was 2011 when they played the game, but it was the Super Bowl that followed the 2010 season. The important part is that the Packers won. Aaron Rodgers was joined alongside the likes of Clay Matthews. Hey, Clay Matthews, what's up? Jordy Nelson, BJ Rogi, Greg Jennings, Mason Crosby, and a bunch of other super talented players who managed to win over the Pittsburgh Steelers 31 to 25. I remember watching this game when I was at college at UW Madison. I was in my best friend Drew's room, and there was a ton of shrieking, and I'm sure underage drinking, but mostly there was just pure unadulterated joy at seeing this team win as adults. It was a very special thing. I called my parents on the phone immediately after. I don't know why, that just felt like the right thing to do. And I had a full-on 30-second conversation with my dad, who was super excited, before he just stopped talking and went, wait, who is this? In his joy over the Green Bay Packers winning the Super Bowl, he didn't even know he was talking to his own daughter. Thanks, Dad. I love you too. This Super Bowl win during the 2010 season, technically in 2011, was followed by yet another series of renovations to Lambo Field Stadium. Unlike the previous two endeavors, the building of New City Stadium in the 1950s and the huge renovation project of the early 2000s, the Packers footed the bill for these new renovations entirely themselves, and I'm sure with the help of corporate sponsors, but Green Bay the City had no part in paying for these new renovations, which began in 2012 and stretched into 2015. And let me tell you, these renovations were expensive, costing hundreds of millions of dollars. So 10 years after an almost $300 million renovation, the team decides to throw, you know, another hundred, another $200 million at the place. These particular renovations included the expansion of the South End Zone, adding an additional 7,500 seats into the mix. This new section incorporated brand new technology that melted snow because Lambo Field, being exposed to the elements, has to be shoveled out from under snow whenever a bad storm hits. From what I remember as a child, local people sometimes show up with shovels and volunteer to shovel the snow themselves, which is about as Green Bay as Green Bay gets. Local citizens showing up with shovels, volunteering to shovel snow from this massive stadium. In addition to this snazzy snow melting new seats in the South End Zone, the team also installed very fancy scoreboards and a rooftop terrace for club seat holders. This expansion was followed shortly after by yet another renovation project, one costing $140 million. That particular project didn't focus so much on the field and the seating and all of that, but on all of the other stuff that makes a stadium go. It involved the restructuring and expansion of this gorgeous glass atrium, the building of new player facilities on the lower level, the relocation and expansion of the Packer Pro Shop, where they sell all the merch, the construction of the new Packers Hall of Fame, and last but not least, the relocation of some existing eateries, in addition to the building of several new eateries. These include Curly's Pub, named after Curly Lambeau, and the restaurant 1919 Kitchen and Tap, named after the year the Packers were founded. This expansion included one of my favorite details currently on display at Lambo Field, which is a 50-foot replica of the Lombardi Trophy, which is located on the east side of the atrium. The thing is huge, it's awesome, and it plays appropriate homage to the team's four Super Bowl titles and Vince Lombardi as the coach that got them their first one. It's very cool. Speaking of Lombardi and, you know, massive ass statues, as of 2003, two bronze figures were installed outside the atrium in the main plaza. Now, who else would these figures be than Vince Lombardi and Curly Lambeau? These massive bronze statues were made in the early 2000s by husband and wife pair Julie Roblat Omrini and Omri Omrini. I'm very sorry if I'm saying your name wrong. And when I say these things are huge, they are huge. The figures themselves are each 14 feet tall, though they are placed on six foot tall bases. So these things stand at a height of about 20 feet. The statue of Lambeau weighs in at about 2,400 pounds. Hey, me too. Just kidding. While the Statue of Lombardi is a more manageable 2,000 pounds, like your classic ton. Currently, in the year of coronavirus 2020, the Statue of Lombardi has a mask on. They put a mask on the good old boy. And you know what? I think Vince Lombardi would have been a huge proponent for wearing a mask. Because he cared about other people. And that's what wearing a mask is all about. People. Speaking of people, one of the things that continues to make the Packers so special is the fact that the team is still publicly owned. I talked a little bit about that in part one. As of 2020, the Packers team is owned by about 360,000 shareholders. That's over three times the population of the city of Green Bay itself. And every year, these shareholders have an annual meeting that typically takes place at Lambeau Field. Now I'm not exactly sure how they proceed with business with that many people present, but hey, whatever floats your boat. Today, the team, the stadium, and its surrounding area continue to be about the people. In the past five years or so, there has been a huge development project happening in stages all around the stadium, which is now known as the quote unquote Titletown District. Titletown being a title that the Packers earned over the years after racking up all of those championships and early Super Bowl wins. The Packers organization announced plans to create this Titletown district in 2015, and they bought a bunch of land around the stadium to do so. Something like 34 acres or something like that. And this was no longer open farmland anymore. There was stuff there. There were stores, there were restaurants, most of them weren't very good, but they were there nonetheless. And the Packers bought that land and tore down most of those establishments, which included, fun fact, the only Kmart we had in Green Bay. In addition to giving something back to the community that had so long supported them, both morally and financially, the Green Bay Packers endeavored to create a space where people, both from out of town and in town, wanted to hang out and spend their money and their time. The project's first phase was completed in 2017, though additional additions are still taking place to this day. That first phase included building an upper scale hotel called the Kohler Lodge, as well as a brewery and eatery called Hinterland. They make a great pilsner, by the way, it's delicious. The team also constructed a sports medicine complex under the control of Bellin Health, which is like the massive healthcare company based in Green Bay. These three buildings were to serve as anchors for the rest of the project, which involved creating recreational spaces for hanging out. These included a recreational-sized football field on which you can like play on and run on and bring your own, you know, like soccer, football, frisbee, whatever you want, it's there for you to use. There are game courts where you can play shuffleboard and cornhole and ping pong and horseshoe. But if you're like me and hate all kinds of physical activity, even horseshoes, there's also a plaza with tables where you can go to eat something, read something, drink something, and there are little carts nearby that have board games, playing cards, and I think once I even saw a book cart there. So it's very, very cool. The most popular part of this renovation project, though, is the playground. Calling it a playground doesn't really sound right because it's 36,000 square feet of a play area, complete with that squishy rubbery flooring and all kinds of play equipment, from your classic jungle gym situations to things that are clearly meant for something, but no one really knows what you're supposed to do, so kids just sort of like climb on them and hang on them anyway. And let me tell you, that playground is popping during the summer months. Poppin'. There's also things to do in this area during the winter months. For example, there is a 46-foot tubing hill called Aaron's Hill where you can, you know, go go snow tubing. And I always thought that this hill was named after Aaron Rogers. Like when someone said, hey, we're gonna go to Aaron's Hill, I just assumed that since it was by the stadium and called Aaron's, that it was named after the famous quarterback. But I found out a few weeks ago that it's actually Aaron's A-R-I-E-N-S, which is a Wisconsin-based company that produces lawnmowers and snowblowers. So it's very on brand in that you can, you know, like snow tube down it. And if you're feeling a little, a little extra ambitious, a little frisky, you can rent out a pair of skates and take a couple of turns around the local ice rink, which is located right underneath that tubing hill. Last but not least, if you happen to have $700,000 just laying around, you could even buy one of the lower end townhouses that the Packers team built and continue to build in this area. You could have the Green Bay Packers as your neighbor and landlord. But fair warning, I don't think that they're the kind of landlord that you'd want to call if there's a little too much noise on game day. Just a thought. This titletown district, although separate from the stadium, is yet another example of the relationship between the city and its team. The city of Green Bay has given the Packers Corporation so much. And while Lambeau Field represents the hearts of the Green Bay Packers, the fans, the people of Green Bay, are its soul. They are the ones that have shown up and filled the stands despite rain or sunshine, heat or cold, snow or more snow. They have shown up when times were really, really, really, really bad and in times where things were really good. The people of Green Bay are there for their team. And the Tidal Town District is the Packers' way of returning that favor, while also ensuring that the people coming to Green Bay with money to spend do so in the area around the district. It's both a gift as well as a strategic move to ensure that the city and the team will continue to endure for years to come. Everyone in Green Bay will tell you a different story about Lambeau Field and their experiences there. I, of course, can only speak for myself. When I think of Lambeau Field, I think of a community institution that is part of Green Bay's everyday life, not just game day, but it's also part of the really important moments too. Some of those important moments have to do with football, sure, but others are about family, friends, community, and memory. When I think of Lambeau Field, I think of all of the times that I saw the stadium driving to my high school and college job at the local Barnes and Noble on Oneida Street. I think of all of the times that my dad drove by the stadium on his way to work at Ashwaban high school. I think of my first time inside the seating sort of field area as a high schooler when I cleaned the stands after a game to raise money for the local dog shelter, and how I was awed by the lights and the size. Before that was all ruined by the fact that my gloves froze solid due to beer that I had to pour out. My hands did recover, and I returned to Lambeau Field a few months later in my high school cap and gown to throw my cap from the second floor of the newly built atrium along with other high school students. When I think of Lambeau Field, I remember my brother Ted and his then fiancé taking me to dinner at 1919 to celebrate getting my master's degree. I think of returning a few years later to eat lunch with them after spending the morning on the playground across the street with my then one-year-old niece. When I think of Lambeau Field, I think of pulling up in a stretch limo, dressed to the nines, with a bottle of champagne in hand, as we arrive for my brother Todd's wedding reception, which they had at the stadium. I think of my mom, who now works at Lambeau Field as part of the cleaning team. I think of touring the facility and the Hall of Fame with my mom and dad, perks of my mom's job, before we went to go eat hamburgers, roasted chicken, and drink a lot of beer at Kroll's Supper Club just next door. I think of the nights spent in a car or at Hinterland Brewery across the street with my cousin, watching the holiday light shows on the LED screens on the stadium's exterior. And by God, I think of that hot pretzel with cheese that I got to eat at my first ever Packers game with my mom, in which the Packers did lose pretty badly, but it also happened to be the day that Brett Favre's number got retired. So there was a halftime ceremony. I got to see Brett Favre, I got to see Bart Star. It was pretty cool. So no harm, no foul, just pretzels. Lambeau Field Stadium is as much about the city of Green Bay and its people as it is about the Packers. There's no separating the city and the team, no separating the stadium from its surroundings. As a city, we are profoundly lucky to have the Green Bay Packers as a local institution. And as a team, the Green Bay Packers are lucky to have a city that has its back. Win, lose, or draw. As the old adage goes, once a packer, always a packer. That is all I have for you in this two-part series on the history of the Green Bay Packers and Lambo Field Stadium. I thank you so much for listening, especially those of you who look to the podcast for art history stuff. I know that this is a little left of center, but I've wanted to do it for a long time. So thank you. I hope you learned a little something about my beloved hometown. And if you just if you happen to be with the Packers organization, please know that as of August 2021, I will be looking for a job. And I will learn to become a football scientist if it comes with health insurance, a decent wage, and hot pretzels. I also won't say no to a Packer player as a husband, but we can negotiate that part of my contract later. I used a lot of the same sources in this episode as the last, including the book Green Bay Packers Trials, Triumphs, and Tradition by William Pavletic, the sports illustrated publication called Packers: Green, Gold, and Glory, the book called Green Bay A City and Its Team by Dr. James Hurley and Thomas Murphy. And I also wanted to give another massive shout out to Cliff Crystal, the Packers Team historian. I forgot to name him aloud in part one, and I'm very ashamed because his books were the quintessential Packers sources that we had growing up. His books were on my parents' coffee table, on my dad's bookstash, etc. etc. I also found a bunch of information on various websites, many of which I will list on the podcast website, stuffaboutthingspodcast.com, in addition to archival newspaper articles pulled from the Green Bay Press Gazette and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. As for Gus Corner this week, last episode I shared that he was getting surgery soon. That is all done. He did awesome, everything's okay, and he was a very good boy. He is now on a little bit of a doggy diet. Uh he's not digging that at all, but he is loving life and doing very, very well. I hope that you are all doing well too, wearing your masks, washing your hands, and making good life choices. If you've got anything that you want to tell me or ask me or, you know, like whatever, you can contact me at either the podcast website under the contact me tab or the podcast email. Stuff about things podcast at gmail.com. I'm a bit busy right now, so my response time is not great. I apologize for that, but I will always respond eventually. On that note, if you would be so kind as to take two minutes out of your day to leave a rating and a review wherever you listen to this podcast, I would really, really appreciate it. Thank you. I will be back in about a month with a new episode. It will be more traditionally art historical, so keep a lookout in your podcast feed for that. The usual shout out to hooksounds.com and freemusicarchive.org for the royalty free music that you hear. The first song that you hear is a version of Box Brandenburg Concerto number four by Kevin McLeod, while the second jauntier tune is called Success Dreams. That is all from me. I hope you take the time to look at something beautiful today and by God, eat a hot pretzel. A la prossima. Bye. Go, back, go.